


A Heart Whose Love Is Innocent

by codesquid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lord Byron - Freeform, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9892271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codesquid/pseuds/codesquid
Summary: Mag and Vol celebrate valentines the old fashioned way: lots of booze and romantic poetry. And I mean Romantic poetry.(this is bad and i feel bad but im leaving it for posteritys sake)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rapunzariccia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzariccia/gifts).



> happy valentines booble i hate myself

They’re halfway into their third bottle of gin when the girl next to Volka stands up from the couch.

Volka can’t really be sure it’s Mag - her vision is blurry, and she said goodbye to her memory three shots ago - but the girl is swaying left and right with no balance whatsoever, and her slurring sounds suspiciously like “fffffuuuuck”, so she can hazard a good guess.

Volka narrows her eyes at her. “What,” she says, the alcohol making her words way more demanding than she’d have meant them sober. “What are you-” and she gestures with her glass-free hand at the blurry shape that is very likely Mag. “-doing?”

Mag slams her hands down on the back of the sofa with intent. “I just- I just thought of something. Ok? Ok! Wait. Wait here.” She walks - more like crawls along the walls - to her room.

For the next few minutes - seconds? Hours? Volka has long since started measuring time by the amount of gin downed - all she can hear is rustling, banging noises, and a steady stream of “fuuuuuuuuuck”-

So it’s not all that different from any other girl’s night.

When Mag gets back, Volka is already half asleep, eyes still open and fixed on the door to Mag’s room. Mag clears her throat, and does it again, louder, when Volka doesn’t stir.

“AH-HEM.”

She’s squinting at a piece of paper obviously ripped from one of her notebooks. Volka gives her what she hopes is a clear expression of “what the hell are you doing?”.

It comes across more as a “I have had ten shots of gin and could probably go for ten more.”

“SHE walks in beauty, like the night,” Mag starts, any control she’d had over her voice completely lost. “Of cloudless climes and STARRY skies. And all that’s best of dark AND bright. Meet in her aspect and her EYES. THUS. Mellowed to that tender light. Which HEAVEN to gaudy day denies.”

The words sound pleasing, poetic, and Mag’s erratic emphasis of random syllables is like honey to Volka’s ears.

“One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the- the nameless GRACE. Which WAVES in every raven tress, or softly lightens o’er HER FACE. Where thoughts serenely sweet express, how PURE. How DEAR. Their dwelling place.”

Volka’s hands start moving on their own, clapping for a short moment before Mag gives her a dirty look and clears her throat again.

“AHEM. AND. On that cheek. And o’er that brow. Soooooo soft. So calm. Yet eloquent. The smiles that win, the tints that glow. But tell of days in goodness spent. A mind at peace with all below. A HEART whose LOVE is INNOCENT.”

Mag stares at her, mouth still open, for a good few seconds, before tumbling over and falling on top of Volka.

“For a tiny person, you sure are heavy,” Volka complains. Mag’s only answer is a soft snore.

“Happy Valentine’s,” she whispers into Mag’s hair.


End file.
